The eunuch was high. It belted a beat for the Jihad Party Boys. It banged drums and blew whistles. It even wiggled its bodacious butt and shook the tambourine. Trans, in a sequined see- through, gyrated to disco, she threw her tits out, her ass out, she threw her hips out--driving the Jihads wild.
Oh their dancing feet shook the slick cement. Their cheap white shirts and cheaper black pants glistened and sparkled. And the dance floor showed like polished marble from the moves of their cheap black leather shoes that slipped and shoved to the disco beat. Their bellies jostled to the hypnotic rhythm as they watched Drag Queen shake that thing.
"Shake. Shake. Shake that thing, Drag Queen. Shake. Shake. Shake that junk stuffed in your trunk. Yeah, Yeah, Drag Queen shake," yelled the Jihad Party Boys all night long.
And that bitch did. She spread her legs and pushed that ass out. She made her butt lips quiver, her crack shiver and clapped to the bounce of her bodacious butt.
The Jihad Party Boys tossed their ragged black hats in the air, they pulled each other's beards. They wiggled and giggled and felt their bellies jiggle as they danced all night long.
Party. Party. Party on Jihad Party Boys.
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